


To Meet A Pirate

by sleepylotus



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "I think it'd be rather exciting to meet a pirate”. Me too! :) Pre-COTBP, slightly AU. Not technically Sparrabeth, because Lizzy is too young, but Lizzy/Jack-centric. A young Elizabeth slips away from her governess, hoping to find treasure on the beach, and stumbles upon a legendary pirate instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Meet A Pirate

A storm had raged all the night over Jamaica, disturbing the sleep of Elizabeth’s governess Mrs. Burns. When the middle-aged woman fell asleep while Elizabeth labored over her embroidery, a tedious activity of which the little girl _detested_ , the Governor’s daughter lost no time in slipping away. It was a thing she did often when Mrs. Burns snoozed, and so long as the girl was not gone _too long_ she would emerge unscathed, the governess reluctant to admit to her employer than she herself had fallen down on the job.

An _exhausting_ job, in the case of young Miss Elizabeth Swann.

Elizabeth slipped out the garden gate and down the path that would circumvent the town of Port Royal, leading to a more secluded beach outside the booming colonial city. Storms always meant something interesting to be found upon the sand the next day, and she carried a sack in anticipation of finding covetable treasures.

The beach was deserted, and where some children may have been afraid to venture out on their own, Elizabeth never felt more free. She kicked off her shoes and raced down the wet sand, picking up sea shells and odd bits of flotsam that interested her. A rather nice piece of driftwood caught her eye, perfect for a cutlass, and she scooped up the stick to whip it two and fro. “I am the dread pirate queen, _Captain_ Red Lizzy!” she snarled at invisible opponents. “Surrender or die!”

They did not surrender, and so she was forced to run them through.

She sang her favorite song as she rambled:

 

_We're rascals, scoundrels, villians, and knaves,_

_Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho._

_We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs,_

_Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho._

She wandered a long way as she sang, eyes cast down upon the hard sand, keen for treasure. A gold doubloon, perhaps, or even a shark’s tooth would have been a welcome find. She made her way around a bend, and when finally she looked up again to the horizon she gasped.

A ship was moored in the natural harbor, a large dark behemoth with black sails fluttering in the steady breeze. It was a galleon or a frigate, a vessel of older design, though unparalleled for elegance of form.

Elizabeth stood transfixed for a long time, drinking in the sight.

Who _were_ they? Why hadn’t they gone to the main harbor in town? Just as her imagination began to run with the possibilities, a voice cut in from behind her. “She’s a sight, innit she?”

With a gasp Elizabeth turned, finding three men standing behind her. One was squat and balding, and one tall and skinny, both of their clothes in shambles. The seeming leader of the bunch was a comparably handsome fellow, with a mass of dark hair beneath a jaunty tricorn. Beads and trinkets glinted in the light in that hair, and as Elizabeth gawped his mouth split in a smile that reflected gold.

“Ello, Poppet,” said the balding one.

Elizabeth frowned, gripping her driftwood sword rather menacingly in a way that only caused the gold-toothed pirate’s smile to widen.

“Are you pirates?” she demanded, her voice surprisingly defiant for a mite of a girl.

The leader looked askance, his eyebrows lifting high. “ _Us_? Do we _look_ like pirates?”

“Yes.”

This caused the leader to frown a little, and the tall skinny man nodded with seeming approval, a goofy grin on his face.

 “Well, have you ever _met_ a pirate?”

“No,” she huffed.

He wagged a long finger bearing a silver ring with an emerald the size of her eye. “Then how can you be so sure?”

“You look funny.”

The tricorn-adorned man frowned, and his compatriots laughed a little, one even patting him on the back apologetically. In the end the man swept off his hat, offering a sweeping bow. “Well, I fear you’re right, love. _I_ am Captain Jack Sparrow. And these are my associates, Mister Pintel and Mister Ragetti.”

“How do you do, Miss!” said the latter, bobbing his head in some semblance of a respectful gesture.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. This was _Captain_ Jack Sparrow? She’d read all about him in her father’s pirate books, popular tomes she would sneak from his study in the dead of night and hide under her bed.

“Move along, gents. I’ll meet you at the launch.” Nodding, Pintel and Ragetti trudged off towards the longboat that was beached up ahead.

Jack Sparrow knelt down before her, tipping back his tricorn so that he could see her clearly. “And what might _your_ name be?” he asked in a conspiratorial tone.

“Elizabeth.”

Jack pursed his lips, noting that her clothing was of considerably better make than your run of the mill villager. It was a troubling detail. Why couldn’t anything ever be _simple?_

“Elizabeth what, love?”

“Elizabeth Swann. My father’s the Governor of Jamaica,” she imparted with frank pride.

Jack, however, grimaced in response. “Eh? I was afraid of that.”

_Bollocks._

Jack would never hurt a child, but he couldn’t say the same thing for some of his crew, this voyage. A Governor’s daughter would look like a mighty enticing hostage to some of them, and worse. Ransom was not an aspect of pirating Jack took part in often, but he couldn’t say the same for his first mate Hector.

Seeming immune to the captain’s troubled expression, she chattered on, bouncing up and down, “I’ve always thought it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate! Wait till I tell my nurse.”

Jack’s expression screwed up. “Where _is_ your nurse, love?”

“Sleeping. The storm kept her up all night. When she dozed off I ran away to see what washed up. I _hate_ embroidering.”

“Ah.” He really couldn’t suppress a smile for this young thing’s pluck, even if she was quickly turning into a stone in his boot. “Well, dearie, the problem is I can’t let you run off just yet to tell anyone we’re here. Pirates, savvy? Don’t fancy being blown t’bits t’day, or hung by the neck.”

“I wouldn’t tell on you,” she pouted.

“Hmm. Not a thing I can leave to chance.”

The Pearl had taken some damage in the storm the night previous, making it unnervingly necessary to stop on Jamaica’s shores for repairs. So far they’d made it undetected and unscathed, until _this_ little mite of a problem wandered across their path.

The boys should be finished repairing the spar soon, Jack reasoned. He could take her aboard for a few hours until they’d done. He really _couldn’t_ risk her running off and telling of their presence. He had a responsibility to his crew, and their voyage. They were off to find the treasure of the Isle de Muerte. They would be rich as kings, and Jack intended to leave this sordid world of piracy far behind him. He wasn’t willing to give up that chance. Not even for an innocent little girl.

“What say you we play a little game, eh Lizzy? How would you like to be a pirate for a day? You can have a new piratey name, and I’ll show you my ship. Hmm?”

Elizabeth’s expression glowed like the dawn breaking the horizon. “Oh, may I? Can I be Red Lizzy? The pirate queen scourge of the Spanish Main?”

She brandished her stick cutlass excitedly, skewering an invisible opponent, and accidentally whipped Jack across the shins.

“Oi!”

“Sorry!”

Jack laughed in spite of himself, rubbing his smarting leg. “You’re a right little devil with that thing. Red Lizzy it is. _NOT_ Elizabeth Swann, Savvy? Can’t have a Governor’s daughter on a pirate ship. It’s against the _Code_.”

Elizabeth nodded earnestly. She’d heard of the _Code,_ as set down by Henry Morgan and the Brethren of the Coast years and years ago. She felt _madly_ proud that Captain Sparrow would take her into his confidence.

“Aye aye, Captain!”

Jack’s smile split wide, his gold teeth almost blinding in the sun. “That’s a good lass. Shall we?” He waved towards the long boat, where Pintel and Ragetti were waiting.

They began to walk down the beach, and Jack started as a small hand slipped into his, a tiny fist latching onto his rough fingers. “What’s your ship’s name?” she asked, oblivious to his discomfort.

“The Black Pearl.”

Elizabeth sighed longingly, itching to clamber upon the decks. “She’s _beautiful_.”

“Thank you kindly, darlin’.”

He relaxed, her little hand clasped in his, and he felt a niggling curl of warmth in the depths of his heart, a place he’d thought _long ago_ walled off from the world. _Captain Jack Sparrow, feared buccaneer and nursemaid._

_Ye Gods._

He could not have guessed the half of what he was in for, but it was too late to turn back now.

She chattered away, asking questions about pirate life as they rowed across to the Pearl. Ragetti and Pintel engaged her in conversation easily. Their mental capabilities were about on par with a precocious ten year old, Jack reckoned.

Without hesitation the little girl clambered aboard, and from that moment Jack spent the next four hours chasing her back and forth. She dashed two and fro, asking about the cannons, the ropes, the pulleys, the sails. The crew watched with flabbergasted amusement, used to their Captain’s eccentricities, but so far this trumped _all_.

She demanded to stand at the helm, a feat of which was facilitated with the help of a crate. Delightedly she clasped the smooth-worn pegs of the wheel, imagining steering the Pearl through treacherous reefs, murderous schools of mermaids, and the Royal Navy in hot pursuit behind.

Next she scaled the rigging, Jack only catching up to her once they’d reached the crow’s nest.

“Why don’t you teach me that song ye were singing on the beach?” Jack suggested, desperate to get this bloody child to _stand still_ for ten minutes. So she did, and soon they were serenading the rest of the crew below, her sweet voice complemented by the captain’s surprisingly comely baritone. In time they all began to sing along:

 

_Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._

_We extort, we pilfer, we filch, and sack,_

_Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho._

_Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack,_

_Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho._

 

Jack was only able to convince her to vacate the magnificent view of the crow’s nest with the promise of a very special treat in his cabin. _Chocolate,_ stolen from a Spanish merchant ship. She’d only had it once and remembered it was the most heavenly sweet. She scampered after him down the ratlines, showing not the slightest hesitation for what would be a _long_ fall down to the deck below.

Once in the great cabin, Jack fell down into his desk chair, heaving a great sigh as he rifled through a drawer in search of the chocolate. He hoped it had not melted. He jumped a little when Elizabeth crawled up into his lap, watching his rifling with interest. She soon turned her attention to his navigational instruments, turning over a very valuable astrolabe in her tiny hands.

“Trade you, love,” said Captain Jack, producing the chocolate from the back of the drawer. It was only a _little_ soft. Happily she relinquished the globe, and Jack placed it as far out of reach as he could.

She was quiet for about _two_ minutes, chocolate in hand.

Next, she was curious about the trinkets in his hair, and asked him about _every single one._

“This one is pretty,” she said, fondling a bead of bright blue faience.

“Ah. A bauble from the deserts of the East,” said Jack. “ _Khar Mohreh_. Means good luck.” Actually it meant _mark of the donkey_ but he was too tired to explain. “Wards off the evil eye.”

“You’ve been _everywhere,”_ sighed Elizabeth, fascinated by the dreamy blue of the bead. “I should like to travel like you someday.”

Jack pressed his lips, loathe to tell her that when she was older she would probably be married off and never get the chance. It was a woman’s lot. And yet she was a singular young girl, and so who knew where life would take her? He wondered if she would always haphazardly court danger, the way she had today. If any other pirate had happened upon her…the thought gave him unhappy chills, making his stomach flip-flop with dread.

He began to unbraid the raven lock that secured the bead, and slipped it from his hair. Elizabeth watched with awe as he began to braid it into her own hair. “I think you need this more than me, love. It will bring you protection, good luck, and long life. I want you to have it.”

When he finished she happily looked down upon it, hero worship shining in her eyes. “I should like you to have something too,” she said, looking down at her person. In the end she settled for tearing away a section of lace from her hem. Lace that had come all the way from France, and was very expensive. She wrapped it around Jack’s wrist twice, and tied it neatly in a knot. “So you’ll always remember me.”

Jack smiled, that damnable icky mushy feeling assailing his heart once more. “Don’t think I could forget this day if I tried, love. You are an _unusual_ little girl, Red Lizzy.”

“Thank you,” she said primly, her attention turned to the chart on his desk. Discretely Jack nudged a piece of paper over the Isle de Muerte, obscuring it from view. He couldn’t help but take account of Elizabeth’s freckled profile. She was all knees and elbows now, but someday he surmised she would be a real beauty. _If_ she survived to adulthood, fool hardy young thing.

“You know, Lizzy, not all pirates are as nice as me.”

“I know.”

“If you ever meet one again, and you’re in trouble, say _Parlay._ That way they have to negotiate. It’s the _Code_.”

She nodded sagely. “I will.”

“If I write a letter to your father will you give it to him for me?”

“Yes,” she answered, her little finger tracing the outline of la Cuba. She seemed quite content to look at the chart, a thing he’d not even let his first mate see, and so he quickly scrawled out a missive on the best parchment he had, and sealed it with his ring.

Jack rowed Lizzy ashore with Ragetti and Pintel once more. He was loathe to let her make the trip back to Port Royal alone, but frankly he didn’t trust his crew of scallywags not to leave him behind. After playing nursemaid all day he would have to do something _exceptionally_ piratey to win back the respect of the crew. She hugged him around the neck, waved to the other two pirates, and scampered off down the beach.

Once back aboard the Pearl Jack barked in his most menacing tone, “Prepare to set sail! That treasure won’t spend itself, lads!”

A chorus of happy _ayes_ and _arghs_ answered his order, and in good time the Pearl back at sea. Jack watched the increasingly diminishing little female form skip down the beach, and Hector came to join him on the quarterdeck. “Could have got a pretty penny for that one, Jack,” he leered.

Jack huffed at the thought. “We have bigger fish to fry. Ransom for a little girl would be small potatoes, compared to the treasure that awaits us.”

Hector Barbossa shrugged, looking at his captain sideways. There seemed to be an extra measure of disdain in Hector’s voice when he said, “Wouldn’t mind having a look at that chart, Jack. Seeing as we’re all equal partners here.”

Jack bit his lip. His instincts screamed that wouldn’t be his finest idea, but as little Elizabeth vanished from view he felt more and more foolish for how he’d spent his day. What kind of a pirate _was_ he? Perhaps he’d better prove he hadn’t lost all his wits to these men.

“Very well, Hector. It’s in my cabin.”

 

***

 

When Elizabeth returned home Mrs. Burns was _frantic_. She shook the child a little, before young miss happily informed her that if the governess spanked her she would be sure to inform her father that Mrs. Burns had taken a nap on the job that day. “Ye little imp,” huffed the woman. “Worried me sick…”

She grumbled on for some time, but Elizabeth ignored her. She felt a crinkling in her pocket, and remembered the letter from Captain Sparrow. She examined the red wax seal. It was tempting to break it and read the letter, but she’d made a promise to Captain Jack, and she wanted to honor it. It was her duty, as Jack had told her she was now an honorary member of the Brethren of the Coast.

Finding Weatherby in his study, she handed the letter to her father with a solemn nod. Thinking this was yet another of little Elizabeth’s games—the child had a _vivid_ imagination—Weatherby thanked her and set it aside for later. He was busy reading the latest reports from Captain Norrington. A pirate ship called the Black Pearl had recently been sighted near Jamaican waters…

 

***

 

Exhausted after a long day, Weatherby retreated to his study after dinner, pouring himself a generous measure of brandy. Only then did he remember the letter Elizabeth had handed him with such a _serious_ expression for such a young girl. With a chuckle he sought it out upon his desk.

Weatherby regarded the seal curiously. It did not contain a crest, or a monogram, but a rather ominous death’s head with a sparrow flying above it. Where had she gotten such a seal? Suddenly very interested, Governor Swann popped it open, finding a missive in a flowing hand that read:

 

_Honoured Sir, the most distinguished and venerated Governor Swann,_

_Greetings, and it is my hope this letter finds you in good health._

_It is my regret to inform you that Miss Elizabeth’s governess is in dire need of termination. I, a pirate of some renown and repute, found your young daughter wandering on the beach alone, and spent the better part of the day with her upon my ship. A buccaneer of crueler inclination would not have hesitated to acquire a coveted hostage, an insult you would have felt acutely in your coffers and undoubtedly, your heart. However, the lass and I contented ourselves with stick fighting and singing pirate songs, of which the dear girl inexplicably seems to know a great deal._

_As I write this at the end of our day I am utterly exhausted, and my shins do pain me (the lass is deadly with a wooden sword, which is actually not a bad skill for a young girl in these uncertain times and I hope you will continue to encourage her). I would advise perhaps the hiring of a small army to keep track of your daughter; one lazy woman certainly cannot be enough to keep Elizabeth out of trouble._

_I thank you kindly for the use of your shores for much needed repairs, and it is my hope you will not hear from us again. I have returned Miss Elizabeth to you unscathed, and I hope this incident will remain in your impeccable memory with generosity, should we ever meet in less than favorable circumstances._

_Respectfully yours,_

_Captain Jack Sparrow_

 

Weatherby paled more and more with every word read.

By the time he reached the end his hands were shaking, and he leapt from his plush chair by the fireplace. Governor Swann did not often raise his voice, but he woke the whole house when he bellowed with a mixture of fatherly panic and fury, “Elizabeth!”


End file.
